


In The Stillness of Remembering

by spiced_1990



Category: Spice Girls
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27077161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiced_1990/pseuds/spiced_1990
Summary: She doesn’t let herself think about it too often, but she’s never had control over her dreams.
Relationships: Melanie Brown/Geri Halliwell
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

She doesn’t let herself think about it too often, but she’s never had control over her dreams. And they still won’t stop. Sometimes it’s a woman she knows but other times, it’s a face she’s never seen before, a body she hasn’t touched.

The first time Geri remembers wondering, she’d been fourteen and unable to stop watching a student in fourth form who had had the curliest hair she’d ever seen and striking dark eyes that had made her stomach clench in anticipation of the moment that had never come, when the nameless girl would notice her. 

Anne’s face had screwed up a little when she’d enthusiastically asked her best friend whether she’d noticed how pretty the older girl was, and that was the last time she’d mentioned it. She didn’t have many mates and it certainly wasn’t worth losing any of them because her brain fixated differently than it probably should. It was a relief when she’d first started crushing on Matty (and Tom and eventually Stephen), a sign from God that she was normal after all. She wanted to stand out but she wanted to be liked even more. 

A few years later, she’d made it back to Spain after too long away. It had been different alone. Geri had explored places she’d never gone, thought things she thought she never would again. She’d learned that you could blag things by flirting, that a touch of the jaw and a lowering of the lashes was often more effective than demanding.

One warm morning, she’d awoken, fists clenched in her sheets and with a feeling of restlessness sitting low in her stomach and the vague memory of a dream. She’d been in a club, like the one from the night before but not  _ quite _ . She’d been dancing with a tall, bronzed man, his shirt half-open as he ground into her from behind. A girl had approached, and it had been impossible to take her eyes off her toned stomach and sweat-glistened breasts. “Sophia,” she’d said, introducing herself. “Come with me,” she’d invited, taking her by the hand. 

“If there was a medal for daydreaming, you’d be first everytime,” Mel B says, rolling her eyes as she casually picks up her towel and puts it into the gym bag. “I know you want this as bad as I do, so it would be nice if you could be arsed to try and keep up.”

Victoria and Emma are still lingering in the studio doorway, the latter’s brow furrowed as if she can anticipate the conversation ending badly. Which is a fair enough supposition given the past two weeks.

“C’mon then, Gez.” Geri takes the hand offered, lets herself be led out of the studio. Two nights ago, the same fingers now firm on her wrist were tracing circles on her back, the younger girl curled around her in bed, breaths warm against her bare skin. 

She’s never been particularly fussed about nudity, her own or anyone else’s, and finding someone who feels the same way, who doesn’t give it a second or third thought has been revelatory. Sometimes she lets the word ‘soulmate’ bounce around in her head, even lets it form on her lips when she's alone with her thoughts. During the day, they’re bandmates and friends and argue as often as they laugh. At night, Geri finds herself waiting for the sound of Mel’s feet on the stairs, pretending she doesn’t hear the door creaking open. 

When Melanie’s husky voice tells her to shove over and make room, even if she’s half-asleep, she feels awake in a way she never has before. 


	2. Chapter 2

She writes about it the next day in her journal, doesn’t exactly want to forget but wants to confine it to the pages in the hopes it’ll stop occupying her mind. Geri’s never going to let anyone read these words so she lets herself be brave. 

A long time ago, she’d read that dreams are an amalgamation of memories and desires and there’s a frustration, a not knowing what that says about her. The dreams aren’t new but now they’re all about  _ her _ . While she’s met enough people and had enough conversations to know that it’s normal to fantasise and wonder about things, the detail and the vividness are… It’s a lot. 

They talk about everything. But not this.

Dawn arrives as they walk home, the sky lightening slowly in shades of pink, purple and yellow. Mel B’s arm is slung around her shoulders, fingertips slightly pinching the back of her neck to keep her in place (she wishes she held her liquor as well as Melanie does). The club had been okay, not busy or noisy enough to stop her mind drifting away, but enough. 

“I think I was pretty lucky the day I met you.” It catches Geri off guard, causes her to stumble slightly on the uneven footpath as they approach the house. Mel’s never been overly free with compliments or sentiment, and so the words are immediately gathered up, held close to her heart. 

“I think it was fate,” she admits, pressing a kiss to Mel’s cheek, laughing when her friend wipes the smear of too-red lipstick away. “Softie.”

Mel’s about to leave the house for an early morning run when they open the door, and so they noisily make their way upstairs, fling themselves onto the larger of the two beds. The dark sheets are still tangled and the curtains drawn, and Geri rolls onto her back, legs and arms akimbo like an exhausted snow angel or a starfish. When Melanie drops on top of her, it’s a heavy but pleasant weight and she buries her head into the crook of her friend’s neck, locks her limbs to keep her in place. 

When Geri had been sixteen, she’d gone through a phase of reading as many lurid and over the top romance novels as she could find. Heaving bosoms and hard members and titillating encounters. The idea that you might find someone with whom your body fit perfectly seemed silly but lovely. Not as silly now. She closes her eyes and hums contentedly to herself as Mel’s fingers trace the lines of her clavicle, her short, painted nails a delicate scratch against pale skin. It’s quiet in the bedroom and for once, she wants it to stay that way, just the soft exhale of their breaths and the rustle of sheets. 

“Imagine Mel comin’ back right now. Think she’d want to join in?” Mel B’s laugh is loud and infectious and Geri doesn’t stop to think about exactly what is meant by her words until later that night when she’s back in her own bed, alone and bored. 

When she drifts off to sleep, memory becomes more, and when Mel’s hands reach behind to unclasp her bra, curiosity becomes want.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time their lips finally meet for the first time (not in a casual peck hello but in a heady buzzed mash of curiosity and need), she’s already had months of dreamed kisses to compare it to. 

Sometimes, in those visions, she’d been courageous and made the first move, curling a hand around Mel’s jaw and angling their mouths together without a word of explanation. Other nights found the two of them playing childish games together, getting carried away and making out with booze on their breath. On one occasion, she’d spent far too long the next day playing back the recollection of the younger woman demanding a kiss as Geri had been pushed back against the wall in a small, dark nightclub as the bass was drowned out by lust. 

In reality, it begins with a cassette tape and a barrage of swear words. 

“Just because you have rubbish taste and don’t like this single doesn’t mean you fucking needed to destroy it?!” 

“It wasn’t like I meant to,” Geri snarls in return. “If you didn’t fucking leave your garbage all over my room, maybe I wouldn’t have accidentally - ”

“Accidentally my arse. Did you purposely put on those ridiculous boots so you could stomp all over it or what?” 

Geri glares at her best friend, noting in the periphery of her vision when Emma pokes her head into the room, assesses the situation, and immediately retreats. She kicks her boots off, aims one right at Mel’s shin and grins when it hits the target. Hopefully it leaves a big, red mark.

“YOU ABSOLUTE CUNT!”

She can see the moment Melanie decides, clocks the way her jaw clenches and her fists close. And so she runs. 

* * *

It’s one o’clock when Geri finally unlocks her bedroom door. It’s ten past one when a cardboard box containing what looks like five sweaters, two pairs of trousers, several crop tops and at least six pairs of knickers is upturned all over her mattress. 

“You moving in?” Geri asks, peeling a twisted g-string off her face and tossing it to the floor. “Or is this a generous donation to my wardrobe?”

Mel throws her hands up, clearly frustrated. “Honestly, I don’t even _know_ . I’m just _mad_. Why’d you have to be such a bitch? You always wreck my shit.”

“C’mere.” The redhead pats the bed, smiles benevolently as she sweeps the pile of clothing off the top of her duvet. “C’mere, darling, and calm down.”

Geri props herself up on her elbow, watches as her friend huffs, sighs heavily and closes the door before turning off the light switch. A flicker and then near darkness. The two lava lamps on the opposite side of the room glow pale blue and neon green, and the only thing more entrancing is the shine of Mel’s skin as she casually strips down to her pants and removes her bra. 

She’s never quite been sure what it is that makes Mel impossible to look away from, whether it’s the enviable curves (it doesn’t matter what she does or doesn’t eat, she stays perfect) or the way she moves like water flows (and Geri sometimes wants to dip a toe in) or the confidence she exudes (the moments they allow themselves to be vulnerable together are precious). 

“When we’re rich, you can buy me a thousand new records as an apology. Okay?” Mel lays on her side, her arms in front of her breasts and twined hands almost resembling a priest at prayer. Gently, Geri prises her fingers apart, interlaces them with her own. 

“I’ll buy you a pony too. Maybe a unicorn if you’re really nice.”

Melanie snorts. “Have you been drinking?” Geri screws up her nose and exhales right into her friend’s face. “A yes, then. Your breath reeks. Probably me too,” she admits. “Didn’t neck that much, though. Not as fun without you.”

“Sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me, Brown.” 

“Are you going to let go of my hands or are we going to stay like this all night?” And that’s when Geri decides that she _could_ stay like that all night. And day. And as long as Mel lets her. Her grip weakens and she finds her gaze catching on the brunette’s bare shoulders, the tiny random freckle that seems inexplicable but perfectly right. Mel’s mouth is still moving but the words sound like they’re being filtered through static and all she can think about is how closely this moment resembles one of her dreams. Except in her dreams, she’s not a coward. 

“Do you ever think about - ” Geri tries to bury the words back into a safe place. Her pulse is racing and this feels too much like a panic attack. The soft pleasurable wave of want that she’s experienced before is swiftly becoming something else as Mel frowns, concerned. She swallows. She could lose something taking this chance but she might win everything, too. “Kiss me?”

Mel doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t interrogate the why now and why her and what does this mean. Geri watches as the tanned skin of her chest rises and falls, and her dark eyes catalogue the moment. Steady. Confident. She’s out of her depth but she wants to be swallowed whole.

“Please kiss me.” _Don’t make me make the decision. Don’t let me be the only one feeling this way._ “Please - ” 

When Mel’s lips brush over hers, everything settles. And then almost immediately it lights up again. A flare. Eagerly, Geri returns the pressure, whimpers as Melanie sighs and opens for her, her tongue flicking into her hot mouth. When she feels a hand closing over her breast, her nipple hardening at the touch, she almost cries.

There are a thousand and one differences in the end. Mel talks a lot between kisses, tells Geri what she wants, how she doesn’t mind a little biting, especially on her neck and breast, and how it’s been a long time since she just made out without it going any further. 

And it doesn’t. 

Their breath is laboured as Geri eventually (hesitantly) pulls back, trying to ignore the increasing ache between her legs and the urge she has to ask Mel to show her _everything_. 

“Apology accepted.”


	4. Chapter 4

She’s still slightly drunk when it happens again, and part of Geri wonders if she’ll always need liquid courage or whether maybe one day she won’t need anything to hide her desires behind. They’d been clubbing, the two of them and Emma, and she’d found herself increasingly frustrated as the evening proceeded, mostly because Mel seemed intent on finding someone to go home with for the night. It’s never been a secret to any of the girls how much she loves sex; she loves to talk about it and isn’t shy when it comes to sharing details. If Mastermind came calling, Geri thinks she could easily win if her specialist subject was ‘Melanie Brown’s Sex Life’. Her favourite toy for masturbation?  _ Yes, sir, I know that. _ Whether Anton or Steve had a bigger dick when hard?  _ Steve by at least an inch _ . 

Lately, she resents them all. And she resents that. 

“You don’t need to be so disappointed,” she tells Melanie as they clumsily undress in Geri’s bedroom. “You win some, you lose some, right?”

Mel turns from where she stands in front of the wardrobe, eyebrow raised skeptically. “No, I don’t, you bitch. I win all of them. I swear, that one with the curly hair and the muscles was so close to inviting me back. If you hadn’t interrupted with one of those bloody disgusting cocktails, I could’ve been having it off right now instead of watching you trying not to vomit.”

“I’ll vomit all over  _ you _ if you don’t shut up,” Geri retorts, hating the frustration that she can hear in her own voice. “Anyway, hurry up and get into bed before you freeze. You don’t need to spend twenty minutes staring at yourself in the mirror; you know you look fucking hot.”

The younger woman looks pleased at the compliment, grinning smugly as she stalks towards the bed in nothing but a tiny pair of shorts. They do nothing to hide the appealing litheness of her body, and if Geri didn’t know any better, she’d think her friend was doing it on purpose. She’s always so casual in her obliviousness.

“You turned the light off.” 

“Even when drunk, you notice subtle things. Impressive.”

She’s not drunk, barely even tipsy at this point, but she doesn’t point that out, not in the mood for the inevitable banter. Geri’s too tired, too on edge, altogether too busy trying to keep her hands from reaching for Mel’s body when it lays down beside her own. 

_ Is she allowed? Is she wanted? _ And so she waits, stares up at the ceiling and listens to Mel bang on about how she plans on spending her last few quid down at the chippy on the weekend. It’s calming, and eventually she lets herself doze off.

Flickering lights outside their house wake her up, but it’s Mel’s fingers lazily dancing up and down her arms that has Geri unable to fall back asleep. She thinks, even with her eyes shut as they are now, she could identify her friend’s digits in a line-up, the soft pads and the lines that one fortune teller had once said were indicators of future prosperity. When Mel’s hand falls to her waist, stretching up under her loose shirt to caress the skin of her side, she knows her weakness. Her want. 

“I can hear you breathing.” Mel whispers into the crook of Geri’s neck. “Faker.” 

“Sleeping people breathe too, idiot.”

A finger reaches out and taps her nose. “But not talk.” 

Geri huffs out a laugh and rolls over, covering Mel’s body with her own, wedging one of her legs between her friend’s. She doesn’t know what time it is but the moon is lighting up the room enough for her to make out the indulgent expression on the younger woman’s face. Chest to chest, she can see everything, registers the moment Mel’s mind shifts.  _ Three steps behind me _ , she thinks. 

“So are you going to take your shirt off or am I?” The flame-haired woman sits up in response, resting at the apex of Mel’s thighs, watches the way her friend’s eyes light up as she quickly tugs her shirt over her head and tosses it to the floor. Firm hands come to rest on her hips. “And your pants?” Geri can only imagine what her expression must look like, the shock and uncertainty. Mel takes mercy, smiles gently before curling a lock of unruly hair around her finger. “Maybe next time.”

Before Geri can even contemplate the idea of a next time  _ (when when when) _ , she finds herself on her back, eager fingers sliding back up her body to cup her jaw, angling her face towards Mel. Her lips are slightly chapped, her breathing slightly shallow. The kiss is everything it was last time, and a part of Geri’s brain shuts down when her friend’s tongue searches and finds her own. Whenever Mel talks about making out with her boyfriends, there’s no mention of this, the heat, the need, the overwhelming sensory overload. 

The sensation of being so completely physically close, nothing but pants between them, is odd, even for her. Her mind catalogues how it’s different, the smoothness of Mel’s skin, the breasts that she can’t keep her hands from caressing and squeezing, the way even this feels so much more intimate than some of the too quick penetrative experiences she’s had before. She’s not sure if it’s because it’s a woman or whether it’s because it’s Mel, and maybe it doesn’t matter.

“God, please, yes, that.” The appreciative rumble of her friend’s voice tugs at something in her chest, and Geri inhales deeply. “Don’t stop, you fucker. Not the time.”

“I didn’t know it would be this fun,” she admits, half-regretting it when Mel looks down at her, a wide smile making her even more beautiful. “I mean, not that I thought about - You know, of _course_ it would be - it's you - but - ”

Gratitude blooms in Geri’s chest when her friend ignores the insane nervous babble and instead captures her lips again. “Dork,” Mel says against her mouth, one hand reaching down below the band of her underwear. Geri tries not to rock her hips up against her, seeking relief in pressure. She’s always been willing to do almost anything to propel her to where she wants to be, and where she wants to be right now is as close to Mel as possible. “My dork.”


	5. Chapter 5

When Emma approaches her one night in the bathroom as she’s getting ready for bed, Geri is apprehensive. The past few days have been tense due to flared tempers and one wildly confrontational argument that had left Mel (Brown, because of course) threatening to leave and never come back. Looking back, she’s not even sure what it was about exactly and that infuriates her. They’re trying to be better communicators, or at least she is, but the personal frustrations and tensions are bleeding into the professional, and Geri can’t figure out a way to stop the runaway train.

The blonde’s arms wrap around her from behind, and Geri looks at the image they make in the mirror fondly. If it wasn’t for the hair, she thinks they might be mistaken for sisters sometimes and the thought warms her. She already has a sister but Natalie is older, and it’s just such a different dynamic. She likes having younger girls in the band to look out for, protect; it makes her feel useful and more like a responsible adult than a scared child trying to bluff everyone into loving her. 

“You know it’ll all work out,” Emma says. “Just give her time to calm down.”

“She said she’s always hated me.” It had felt like a lead weight, the words, not yelled in the heat of the moment, but a deliberate, cold condemnation. “I would never say that to her, even when she’s being a fucking nightmare. And she won’t even apologise, you know. She  _ never  _ does, not properly.”

Emma’s face is sympathetic and that almost makes it worse. Geri knows Melanie isn’t as open as she is when it comes to being vulnerable in certain ways, but how lopsided everything feels right now... It’s uncomfortable. “You know she doesn’t hate you. You don’t need  _ me _ to tell you that. Have you spoken to her today?” 

“I haven’t even seen her,” the redhead says, pulling away from her friend’s embrace to grab a few makeup wipes and swiping furiously at her darkened eyes. “I think she’s been ignoring me.”

She’d stupidly made her way upstairs a couple of times under the guise of trying to find out whether anyone needed anything from Asda, but the Melanies’ bedroom door had been shut and she’d been cowardly, had stood with an ear to the wood and tried to ascertain from that whether she’d be welcomed in. Geri hadn’t been game to try the handle. 

“I’m  _ not _ going to be the one to apologise.”

In the end, neither of them do. When Geri returns to her bedroom, she finds a sleeping Melanie, the duvet pulled almost entirely to one side of the bed so her friend’s body is completely covered except for one foot sticking out the bottom. Silly cow. She wraps her arms around the heap of blankets and body, is struck by a sense of rightness when Mel shuffles back so her bum rests right up against her (last Saturday night at Heaven, they’d danced that way for awhile, grinding up against each other until Geri almost couldn’t bear it anymore). 

“I’m gonna freeze to death and it’ll all be your fault,” Geri whispers into the younger woman’s dark curls. “I’ll be expecting a very nice speech at my funeral or I’ll come back and haunt you.”

Mel’s voice is even huskier than usual when she responds. “You’re not allowed to die. My life would be too boring without you in it.”

It’s not a sorry but it’s enough. They still haven’t talked about what’s going on, about what exactly it means for the friendship that they keep making out in dark corners and exploring each others’ bodies in warm beds. And maybe it doesn’t mean  _ anything _ . She’s thought about it too much this past month, trying to catalogue what she knows of Mel’s history, the actual relationships but the other stuff as well, the stuff she doesn’t define and doesn’t ‘count’. Geri wants this to count, and the shame of that, the thrill but the fear of it, threatens to swallow her whole sometimes. 

“You still there?”

Geri squeezes her tightly in response, arms around her middle, gently tries to pull the duvet back so she can crawl in with her bed partner. Mel allows it after a short tussle, her laugh tired but genuine when the redhead immediately burrows in close when they’ve resituated in the middle of the bed facing each other. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, you know.”

Mel’s hand cups her jaw, pulls her in for a lazy, soft kiss. It’s different from most of the other times. She can’t taste alcohol or cigarettes on her lips and it’s familiar in the way the best things are. It’s something she wants to be used to.

Sometimes Geri wonders whether the other girls know, whether they’ve been too obvious or too loud. The rustle of sheets, the unclasping of bras, the way Mel can’t entirely quiet her moans no matter how hard she tries to swallow them in a kiss. 

“Ger, you know I don’t hate you, right?” The words are spoken into the sleeve of her pale blue Felix shirt, and even though Geri knows it isn’t the intention, she wishes Mel would look her into the eye so she can see the truth of it. “Not really. You just…”

“Frustrate you?”

Mel barks out a laugh, her head falling to Geri’s shoulder and resting there. “That and a million other things.”

“Good things too?”

“Stop begging for a compliment, babe. I’ll give you all the orgasms you want but I’m not about to start pretending you’re anything but a shit dancer.”

_ Is that a promise? _ Geri’s tempted to ask. Doesn’t. Instead, she captures Mel’s hands in her own, enjoys the way the moonlight filters into the bedroom and illuminates her friend’s gorgeous skin. Her fingers are long and strong, and sometimes she lets herself imagine what it’ll feel like to have them inside of her, stroking her, pulling satisfaction from her. There’s an inevitability to it, she thinks, and it scares her.

“Stop thinking and go to sleep,” Mel demands, a kiss punctuating each word, barely there but felt just the same. “They want us in the studio early tomorrow and I don’t much fancy showing up with giant eyebags and yawning.”

Geri presses a finger to her friend’s plump lip, giggles when Mel nips at it and growls. “You’ll still be the prettiest person in the room.”

“Flirt.”

“Maybe I just want those orgasms sooner rather than later.”


End file.
